Disparate || Adrien A.

six

ADRIEN WAS TIRED AND TIRED LED TO LATE NIGHTS AS CHAT NOIR. The freedom that he had as his alias made him fully awake -- plus, it was always good to make sure no one was akumatized during the night. Has it ever happened before? Yes, and he wasn't willing to repeat it. 

Although he didn't mean to, his legs led him to a certain persons house. A person who's friendship he's been vying for. You weren't on the rooftop this time, thankfully, so Adrien walked around the roof for a little while before hooking his knees over the railing and bending upside down to look into your window. He knocked, as he didn't want to seem like a weirdo, and obviously startled you out of what you were doing. 

Which was more violin practice. 

When you saw him, your face went cross, but you still opened the window. "Need something?" your voice was monotone as you leaned over the window sill. 

"Can I come in? The blood is starting to rush to my head, which doesn't sound very good," Adrien laughed after, hoping you were going to say yes. You looked around your room before nodding, to which Adrien quickly made his way inside. He was very dizzy and was swaying side-to-side, but he soon found his balance. "What're you working on?"

"Ne me quitte pas by Jacques Brel," you off-handedly said, picking your violin back up. It was a rosewood violin, very beautiful looking.

Adrien played a hand on his chest and sank down to the floor, "If you have a ukulele, I could play it with you." He would've mentioned the piano, but it didn't seem like you would have one.

You paused and placed your violin back down. Your eyebrows furrowed before you slowly nodded your head, "My dad might still have one. I'll go and check." You walked out of the room, the soft pattering of your feet soon faded away.

Adrien rocked back and forth while he sat, criss-cross, and looked around your room. There was a twin bed -- which was barely made, but the blanket was messed up -- and a desk, one that was connected to the wall. A music stand stood in the corner, along with several other instruments -- bass guitar, pan flute, and drum sicks (Adrien assumed the drums were somewhere else) -- and there were different canvases lining the wall.

Adrien stood up to get a better look at them and noticed they were in a chronological order. The first looked like it was made by a toddler, the last looking remarkably better.

He found himself wondering if you could paint.

You, with your unreasonably well timing, answered his question as you walked into the room. "Bastien made those, they're not mine. Oh, and Bastien is one of my friends," you stood next to him, holding out the ukulele. "It's not in-tune, so you may have to tweak it."

Adrien nodded and whistled, "He's got some talent." He grabbed the instrument out of your hands, strumming a few chords. Starting with the first string, he began to tune it, which was very hard with his long nails. He soon got the hang of it and was strumming several chords before stopping. He looked up and nodded, "The ukulele is ready to roll. I totally could've made pun there, but I chose not to."

"You couldn't think of any, could you?" you shifted your chin on the chin-rest and lifted your bow, staring at him. Your fingers were bent over the neck of the violin, prepared to play. 

"Maybe," he shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the ukulele. He played the first chord and the chords after that, soon turning it into the beginning of Ne me quitte pas. You joined in soon after, the two sounds mixing together. He hummed along with it, "You should sing with it."

You were stopped your playing and look over to him, shaking your head, "No, I don't sing. You can, though." The resolution was clear in your voice, and Adrien wasn't willing to push it, instead choosing to enjoy the moment.